


There are Cat People and Then There are Cat People

by lovegonestale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bestiality, Catboy!Castiel, Community: spnkink_meme, Dubious Consent, Interspecies, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovegonestale/pseuds/lovegonestale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Castiel with cat ears and a tail going into heat and rubbing all over his owner Dean would be just the loveliest thing! Dean is kind of against it at first because having sex with your catboys is frowned upon, sort of bestiality, but Cas is determined and Dean doesn't put up too much of a fight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	There are Cat People and Then There are Cat People

“ _You should take pictures_ ,” Sam said.

Dean scowled at the phone. It wasn’t even half as effective as scowling at Sam in person, but it made him feel better. “I’m not taking pictures of this asshole.”

“ _He’s not an asshole, Dean. That’s just his personality. All cats have personalities._ ”

Dean glared down. He was half-reclining on his couch, which would’ve been a relaxing position if there wasn’t a fucking catboy sitting in his fucking lap. Normally this is what people wanted of their cats, which were supposedly aloof creatures that doled out affection very carefully. At least, that was what the internet and other owners told Dean, but he had to wonder why no one ever mentioned how fucking _heavy_ they were, or that they were fucking creepy when they stared at you.

Cas liked to stare. He was doing it right at that moment, head tilted faintly and blue eyes focused on Dean’s face. Dean wondered if there was something on his forehead.

“He watches me shower, Sam.” Dean made a face at Cas. Showing teeth was supposed to be a sign of aggression but Cas looked unimpressed. “He just sits there and... watches me.”

“ _Uh... you could lock the door?_ ”

“I shouldn’t have to lock doors in my own apartment!” Dean perked up when Cas moved, only to have his hopes ruined when Cas started kneading Dean’s stomach. “Stop that! No claws!” Dean smacked Cas’ hands. Cas blinked at the rebuke, and gracefully lowered down until he was astride Dean, head resting on his chest. “Jesus fuck, Sam, have you tried to breathe when there’s a catboy sleeping on you?”

Sam made a cooing sound. “ _He sleeps on you? That’s so sweet._ ”

“It’s not sweet!”

Cas wasn’t sweet. Cas was creepy and needy and followed Dean everywhere. Cas sulked like a goddamned human the one time that Dean stepped on his tail, and shredded the bedroom curtains in retaliation.

Cas cuddled against Dean when it was cold and drooped a little whenever Dean was out of the apartment for longer than usual and was always perfectly well-behaved when Dean brought him out for drives in the Impala.

“ _I can take him back if he’s bothering you that much_.”

Dean realized he’d been scratching behind Cas’ ears, and went still. Cas’ purr continued to rumble almost directly into Dean’s chest, and when he noticed Dean had stopped, butted his hand helpfully.

“Nah.” Dean started petting Cas again. “Too much effort.”

+

In the couple of weeks he’d owned Castiel the asshole cat, Dean may have gotten used to Cas’ quirks. Cas’ complete disregard of personal space was one of his _minor_ quirks, believe it or not, and Dean had to admit that he’d managed to become desensitized to waking up with another face mere inches from his own, Cas’ patient expression turning into pleasure as soon as he saw Dean was awake.

(Dean is a sad, sad man, because he can’t recall the last time he’d seen someone look at him like that just for being _awake_ , but fuck it all.)

Of course, the illusion of being wanted would be shattered when Cas smacked his palm right on Dean’s nose in demanding he’d be fed, and Dean would remember – right, needy asshole Cat.

Although Dean understood the importance of needing food. When a dude’s hungry, a dude’s hungry.

At least Cas was quiet.

  
+

Then Cas stopped being quiet.

One morning, out of the blue, it stopped being a matter of being able to count the number of times Cas meowed in a week on one hand, and became a matter of Dean helplessly chasing a wailing Cas around the apartment, going, “What do you want, do you want food” and, “There’s your goddamned food, what do you want” and, “Is your collar hurting you? Do you need your litter changed? Do you want to play?”

None of it placated Cas, who merely looked up at him from where he was pacing the living room, and meowed _again_.

Dean took out the two hundred billion cat toys Sam and his coworkers had given him, throwing them at Cas one by one in trying to make him stop making that _infernal noise_. That didn’t work either.

“The hell, Cas! You got a pair of lungs on you,” Dean groaned. Cas gave him a baleful look and opened his mouth, incisors glistening, to _merroooooww_ in his face like this was American Idol and Dean was the moron who couldn’t see his talent.

“I don’t know what you want!” Dean exclaimed.

Then Cas did this thing Dean had never seen him do before. He listed over, like he had an inner imbalance or something, and flopped down. Not like a freaking dog asking for stomach scratches, no. He flopped down and _wiggled_ , his semi-human-shaped body graceful in ways that still took Dean by surprise, before slinking towards Dean’s legs and rubbing his chin, shoulder, and then chest against him.

“Okay, so you want me to pet you?” Dean asked. It was a little like how Dean had heard cats react to their masters when they got home, not that Cas ever did more than wait in the middle of the hallway for the door to open and then run off to play hard to get. “Pettings? Is that what you want?”

Dean crouched down, hand out for him, but Cas ignored it. Cas just kept doing that strange wiggle-roll, tail flicking between Dean’s legs like a wayward hand.

It didn’t help that Cas had the weirdest, _deepest_ meow Dean had ever heard in a catboy.

Dean reached for him. “Are you hurt?” The moment Dean touched Cas’ shoulder, his whole body jerked. Cas’ teeth came together, and the next meow was softer. Cas pressed his face against Dean’s calf, murmuring plaintively.

“Okay,” Dean said gently. “I’m going to check the internet, okay? See what’s wrong with—”

Suddenly Dean had himself an armful of Cas. He fell over, naturally, because Cas was _so_ not a kitten. Cas was a big ‘ol temperamental cat who seemed to like Dean on his back because it meant that he could keep doing that wiggle-rub move all over Dean’s shirt and jeans. It was strange. More than strange, because there was an edge of desperation to Cas’ movements, in how he twisted and turned and butted his head at any part of Dean he could reach.

“Can’t breathe, buddy.” Dean tried to get his hands under Cas’ armpits but it was like trying to grab a living slinky with sharp elbows.

Cas growled, but it wasn’t the angry growl Dean had come to know very well (for all that Cas stared at Dean in the bathroom, Cas hated it when the tables were turned). He sounded frustrated, impatient.

“C’mon,” Dean said, “I’m not kidding, Cas.”

He grabbed the back of Cas’ neck and – there. Cas stopped. He stopped writhing and meowing, legs and arms falling lax to his sides as though Dean cut his strings.

Cas’ skin was very warm. Dean was pretty sure that Cas wasn’t normally this warm, so he took his time carefully rolling them over, Cas’ limbs completely useless when Dean arranged him on his stomach safely.

Then Cas bounced up on to his hands and knees, neat as you please, and shoved his ass against Dean’s crotch.

“Whoa!” Dean almost let go but luckily remembered just in time, palm clamped firmly at the base of Cas’ head. He tried to shift away but Cas’ butt just jutted up even more. “Uh… Cas?”

Cas mewed faintly. He didn’t sound angry, or annoyed. Just… expectant.

Dean’s gaze dropped down to the space between Cas’ ass cheeks.

It was easy to forget that Cas was naked. Dean had seen plenty pictures of cats that got dressed up by their owners, and the last thing he needed was Cas to be even more pissed at him than he usually was. Some of their body shapes were similar, true, but the human eye naturally slid away from the individual pieces – nipples and butt and skin – to just see the whole feline body for what it was.

Cas’ tail, which normally rested horizontally or swished around when he got upset, was currently straight up. It was arrow for the eye, drawing attention down to what was actually a pretty well-shaped gluteus maximus.

More importantly, though, Cas was wet. Cas was _wet_ , holy shit, the glistening above his perineum was not a trick of the lighting.

Panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good. Dean still had his instructive _Congratulations On Your New Cat_ flyers around somewhere, maybe. His phone was closer, but none of the people he could call were people that he _wanted_ to call. Sam would probably nag at him about not noticing the signs leading up to Cas’ heat and taking the proper precautions beforehand.

Cas almost looked human like this. Bent almost double, with his thighs spread and wanting, Cas could be just another guy politely asking for a pounding. If Dean ignored the tail. And the natural lube trailing down Cas’ cleft. And the way Cas had turned his head to glare an unmistakable, _what’s the hold up_ at him.

“They said you were neutered,” Dean said weakly. “Spayed. Whatever.”

Wasn’t it dangerous to leave a cat in heat? Dean vaguely remembered something about that, though it was hard to focus with Cas arcing his back in display. Yeah, there was definitely something about how cats really needed it, like _really_ needed it or else they got sick. Their bodies were just wired that way, and it was the owner’s duty to keep them safe.

It couldn’t be all that different from manually helping dogs with their anal glands, right? Not that Dean had ever done that, but the principle sounded the same.

It was just a helping hand. Dean was the human, and Cas was his responsibility.

Dean pressed two fingers to Cas’ opening. Cas made a surprised sound – a garbled _mrrr_ with a lilt at the end – and his pucker opened under the pressure, smooth as silk and unlike anything Dean had ever felt as it swallowed the offered fingers.

Cas was hot. Dean only had his fingers inside him and that right there was warmth that ached to be filled. He pumped in and out a couple of times, mesmerized by the wetness that followed his fingers every time he drew out.

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean shuddered at the noise Cas made, low and keening. This time he understood what that frustration meant, and what Cas needed.

Fingers were not enough. Cas needed a dick, stat, and it just so happened that his owner had a working model.

Cas snapped his teeth in annoyance when Dean pulled his fingers out, but Dean curled his fingers tighter around the back of Cas’ neck and kept him still. Given the incentive, Dean could open his pants one-handed, no problem.

Dean lined himself up, but hesitated. He was hard, and Cas had a great ass, but the twitching tail reminded him what this was. Cas could look human from certain angles but that didn’t mean he was one.

Grasping for straws, Dean reminded himself that there was porn of this out there, not that he’d watched any of it. There was, like, a whole freaking subculture of cross-species activity somewhere out there in the world, and that had to mean that this was kinda okay, right? This wasn’t completely fucking crazy, right?

Cas sobbed.

It almost made Dean’s toes curl, because Cas never sobbed before. Cas growled and grumbled and hissed, but he didn’t sob. It was close to begging as he’d ever heard from him.

Dean pressed the head of his dick against the opening, and pushed in.

_Oh god_.

Definitely not human.

The grip was – different. Wet, hot, not like an ass but not like a pussy either. The channel was strangely uneven, little grooves in the walls as if there was a reverse ribbed condom or something going on inside. It tickled, until Cas yowled and shoved back onto Dean, and then it just became fucking insane fucking hot.

“Holy shit,” Dean whispered.

Cas was strong, muscles tightening deliberately around Dean like Cas was the one making a claim here. Cas didn’t open for Dean so much as sheath his shaft like he was literally made for this, slick and ready and burning up from the inside. He certainly got right on with fucking himself on Dean’s cock, little shoves backward as he chased his relief.

Sex wasn’t supposed to be like this. Dean had had plenty in his life, thank you very much, but having a cat on his cock was like breaking into a brand new world. Cas was in a frenzy, desperate and grateful every time Dean shoved into him, and in no time Dean’s thrusts matched Cas’ pushes back.

Dean could be a wild thing, too. Cas took it all and asked for more, the floor groaning when Cas dug his claws into the surface. Dean vaguely heard himself mumbling nonsense: “fuck” and “god, Cas, do you even know how to slow down” and “good kitty, there’s a good kitty” until Dean felt his knees protest.

He got a hand around Cas’ cock. Or, at least, he reached for it, only to pull back in shock as soon as he brushed it. Cas’ dick was usually retracted into his body but it was out now, thin and tapered and leaking. It was also _sharp_ , little thorny things on it like the unfriendly siblings of whatever lined Cas’ insides, and it didn’t seem a good idea to jerk Cas off.

“Cas, you gotta…” Dean licked his lips. Cas understood basic orders (and more, of which Dean suspected Cas purposely pretended he didn’t) but how do you tell your cat to _come, already_. Cas was back to making frustrated sounds again, high-pitched wails that were familiar enough that Dean felt a pang of sympathy.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how!” Dean could only fuck him, change the angle (which Cas liked) and rub his stomach (which Cas didn’t) and rub a thumb against his wet hole (which Cas most definitely approved). It still wasn’t enough to get him over though, and Dean realized with embarrassment that he was going to come first.

It was just too good. There was only so long that Dean could hold back his orgasm when he was fucking someone like this, let alone someone _this_ enthusiastically into it. Cas’ ass kept slamming into Dean’s thighs as they rutted into each other, and there was also the matter of Cas, who was not normally vocal, making literal wild animal noises that rang in Dean’s ears.

So Dean came hard. His gritted his teeth and fucked Cas through it, belatedly realizing that he was pumping human come into a kitty body – which was apparently a turn-on and called forth one last, extra jolt of pleasure through his release.

Then Cas came. His wailing thinned into one final gasp, body shuddering. His head and shoulders dropped flat to the floor, inhuman spine flexing so that his ass was a – a _receptacle_ for Dean’s come. The muscles around Dean’s shaft tightened up, some biological refusal to let any of it leak out, maybe.

Dean rested his hands on Cas’ sides and panted heavily. Cas continued to shudder every couple of seconds or so, which Dean hoped was a good thing.

Jesus holy shit fuck Dean was so messed up.

It was hard to hold on to that thought, though. It kept slipping away, unimportant. Dean could feel the freak out that was in his imminent future, but that could wait. Right now, there was just the satisfaction of damn good sex.

Dean was still inside Cas. He smoothed his palms down Cas’ back. That usually worked on Cas in other context, but this time it only made him tense up.

“Buddy, I’m gonna pull out, okay?” Dean said gently. Cas hunched forward a little more, shoulders tight. Dean kept rubbing Cas gently as he carefully drew out, marveling at how he could _feel_ Cas sealing himself up behind him.

Dean gingerly pulled his pants back up as loosely as he could and fell back on his haunches.

Cas made a small, almost confused sound. He hadn’t moved from his presentation pose, but he turned his head a little so he could look Dean.

“Good Cas,” Dean said, but Cas was still frowning at him, perplexed. Cas’ eyes dropped to Dean’s cock, which was softening between the open V of his pants, and then back up to his face. 

That was Cas’ problem-solving face. Dean had seen it often enough, and through the post-coital haze, worry flickered at the back of Dean’s mind.

Dean’s eyes fell to Cas’ cock, which was slowly retracting back into his body.

“Oh,” Dean said. “Oh, you were expecting that – uh, those thorn things on me. Sorry, we don’t come with those.”

Cas’ eyes suddenly went very, very sharp. And speculative.

“Did I say good Cas?” Dean blurted. “I meant bad Cas. Very bad Cas! Bad Cas needs a shower. Look at what you did.”

It figured that Dean had maybe the only cat in the world that could look fucked out and devious at the same. Cas had also started purring like a freaking motorboat, contented and pleased and unblinking as he plotted the next stage of Dean’s complete downfall.

“That was a one time thing,” Dean said firmly. “I’m taking you to the vet tomorrow and we – we’ll get this fixed. You’ll feel better, you’ll see.”

Cas just stared at him, and purred even louder.

It didn’t make Dean feel better to have said that. He went to the bathroom to clean up, but he could sense Cas’ heavy gaze on him every step of the way and ultimately couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d doomed himself.


End file.
